Soak Up The Words That Spilled Me Over
by nothing-rhymes-with-ianto
Summary: She'd never been all that close to her brother, and now it's too late. And so, little by little, she does the unthinkable, the painful, and takes up her father's habit.


_Written for the "alcoholism" square of angst_bingo._

* * *

She'd never been all that close to her brother. Four years between them and different genders, along with their mum being sick and their father's differing treatment of them made them distant with each other. By the time Ianto was old enough to try to connect with Rhiannon, she was already married and out of the house, living with Johnny and pregnant with David.

Rhiannon has always been a worrier. She has always distantly worried about Ianto, about his grades or his work or his personal life or his health. When they were young she worried about his awkward solitariness, the way he seemed to be nearly friendless, but they were so different and their lives so far apart that she had no idea how to help. She was in her own world, and often forgot to look after Ianto, only worrying secondhand. She didn't think of Ianto so much when she got older. She had boys and school and a social life to think of. Her home life was falling apart, with her mum getting stranger every day and her father falling into despair and a bottle, and Ianto withdrawing into his books and his room. So she ignored her family as best she could, staying out late with her friends and with Johnny. She never got to know her little brother the way she should have.

She'd never been all that close to her brother, and now it's too late. He's dead and every time she thinks about it, she wants to burst into tears. She wishes she had known him better. The brief conversations she had with him over the years revealed an intelligent, passionate young man, but she hadn't cared so much until he was gone. She hadn't noticed her brother until he was no longer around to be noticed.

She feels strangely guilty for his death, and quietly blames herself for not helping him more in his trouble. She often wonders what might have happened if she'd said one thing differently, or contacted him, or hid him somewhere. She can't think about Ianto without remembering everything she didn't say, didn't do, the fact that they never got to know each other properly.

And so, little by little, she does the unthinkable, the painful, and takes up her father's habit. She just wants to numb everything down and stop the spinning in her mind that had never happened until Ianto died.

"We need to talk," Johnny tells her after Mica and David have gone to bed.

"About what?" Rhiannon asks, pouring her first drink of the night.

"You need help, Rhi. It's been three years since he died."

"I thought we agreed never to mention him." She answers coldly.

"Rhi, you're not grieving now. You're running away. You drink yourself stupid six nights out of seven. You sit there and mumble about him until you pass out. It's not healthy."

"Everyone says it takes time." She replies. "This is just taking more time."

Johnny takes the glass from her and puts it on the counter, then takes her hands in his. "Rhiannon, you've turned into an alcoholic," He nods to the bottle on the counter, the nearly empty glass. "Just like your father was. You need to get help. You need to stop this."

"I'm not an alcoholic!" She glares at him. "Why would you say that?"

"You drink every night until you pass out on the sofa. Sometimes you crawl into bed and talk about him in your sleep. You function half-drunk during the day. Rhiannon, you can't hide your guilt in booze."

A flash of hot shame runs through her when he digs at the truth, and she turns away.

"I can try. Leave me alone. I'll be in bed later. Don't wait up."

Johnny sighs and lets her hands go. She wraps them around her glass. He cups her cheek and kisses her forehead and she can't react, doesn't remember how to. When he's gone, she knocks back another mouthful. She's going to try as hard as possible to drown the grief, the guilt, the anger and shame. Maybe if she soaks it enough, it'll quiet so she can sleep. Maybe if she drenches it enough, it'll disappear and stay away and maybe she can get back together the life that broke when she heard the news of her brother's useless death.


End file.
